Courts of the Sun
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: HPLM pre-slash. It certainly was a lovely place to be trapped with Lucius Malfoy, Harry had to admit. Pity that didn't help them at all in deciding how to get out of it. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Courts of the Sun

 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

 **Pairing:** Harry/Lucius (mostly pre-slash)

 **Warnings:** Mild angst

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Wordcount:** 3200

 **Summary:** It certainly was a lovely place to be trapped with Lucius Malfoy, Harry had to admit. Pity that didn't help them at all in deciding how to get out of it.

 **Author's Notes:** This is another of my July Celebration fics, written for the following prompt by nia_kantorka: _As I love how you write Lucius/Harry and your magical theories and creations I'd love to see a little story about them stuck in a magical trap and how they got stuck in it and what it takes to get out of it._

 **Courts of the Sun**

"Well done, Mr. Potter. Or I suppose I should call you Auror Potter, since only an Auror would have the combination of luck and stupidity to get us involved in this situation."

Harry snorted. Auror training had had at least one good effect, he thought, turning around to study Lucius as he slumped against the golden wall of their prison. He no longer wanted to push Malfoys through the nearest wall. After the lectures that some of his instructors had given him, Harry was inured to insults.

"You should," Harry murmured, letting his fingers explore the faceted ceiling above their heads. One minute, he and Lucius, a representative from God-knew-what group—probably "Stuck-Up Pure-bloods For Keeping Their Comfortable Lifestyle"—had been pretending to admire the fist-size topaz that the Unspeakables had chosen to present to the Ministry. The next instant, they were trapped inside it.

It was a very _pretty_ prison, Harry had to admit. Not only did it look like the inside of a jewel, it was comfortably warm without being stifling. Shafts of light as bright as the sun played over them as they tried to find a way out. Well, as Harry tried to find a way out and Lucius gave up before anything was even decided.

"This is a cunning trap, Auror Potter. You will not find a way out."

"What do you know about it?" Harry turned his head alertly, letting his fingers continue to rest against the ceiling on the off-chance he would find a hidden latch there. "I thought the Unspeakables said no one knew anything about it."

Lucius sighed. _Yes, the weight of the world is on the shoulders of a stuck-up pure-blood man,_ Harry thought, as he watched shadows chase themselves across Lucius's face. His hair looked more like gold than ever with the light playing on it.

"It seemed a mere carved jewel until it trapped us here. They all do, until they function. But this is a prison specifically designed for making sure that one's enemies are never heard of again. I have never seen _this_ particular one, but my ancestors used to own two of them. One a ruby, one a sapphire."

"Of course they did," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He had stopped being surprised at what Dark wizards considered necessary after the fifth raid on a manor formerly owned by Death Eaters. "And they probably took a lot of pleasure in wearing them, knowing that the spirits of their enemies were right next to their necks or wrists, right?"

"Correct," said Lucius, with a faint trace of surprise. "Sometimes you surprise me with your ability to think like one of us, Mr. Potter."

"It's Auror, remember?" Harry crouched to knock on the floor. Nothing there, either. He did have his wand, but given how perfectly the walls curved, he was hesitant to cast a spell that might be instantly reflected back on them. "And I don't know which one of you you mean. Dark wizard, Malfoy, pure-blood?"

"Certainly not _Malfoy_."

Harry made sure that his face was turned away as he grinned. He had learned to absorb insults in training, sure, but since he became a full Auror, he was accustomed to dealing with people who grovelingly deferred to him, even when they had a lot more experience with the problem in question than Harry did. It was refreshing to see someone who had clung to their pride. Lucius sounded like an Unspeakable.

"Do you know why the jewel would have reached for you and me specifically? Who would have done something to trigger it?"

"I thought I felt a push behind me as though someone was trying to maneuver me close to it at the last minute." Lucius let his head fall back again. "And thus ensure that I was in front of the jewel at the same moment as you."

"Someone who wanted to get rid of both of us, then. Maybe even someone who assumed we would murder each other before discovering the way out." Harry paused. "What's the way to disarm a trap like this?"

"The Unspeakables will have figured out their mistake by now," Lucius murmured, his eyes falling shut. "Of course, since their number includes at least one person anxious to see us gone, they may not be much help."

"What's the procedure?" _Merlin, I am so patient,_ Harry congratulated himself.

"They need to figure out the correct order of pressing the gem's facets, and the correct incantation to speak at the same time." Lucius sighed. "Each gem had a unique combination, rather like a strongly warded lock. I know what the combination would have been for our ancestral ruby and sapphire, but I never even knew a topaz would be considered to create a trap like this—one reason I didn't recognize it for what it was in time. I'm afraid that I have no idea."

"Could we somehow communicate with them from inside the stone?"

Lucius gave him a withering glare. "What would be the point of a magical trap that allowed such communication?"

"Right, of course," Harry muttered with a little roll of his eyes. "All right. Is there something else we can do that might affect our chances of getting out of here?"

"Nothing acceptable."

Harry opened his mouth to question what Lucius meant by that, but then grimaced. "You mean it would take a sacrifice that neither of us would appreciate." His mind swam with the thought of performing blood magic or something similar.

"Yes."

Lucius had turned away and leaned against the side of the topaz. His eyes were closed, and his face looked wasted and drawn. Harry narrowed his own eyes in speculation, wondering if there were spells on the topaz that made them more likely to die of starvation or accelerated the aging process.

When he asked, though, Lucius shook his head, which made a rustle like autumn leaves against the sides of the jewel. "I'm only weary with thinking of how much useless effort you're wasting, Potter," he whispered. "Leave me be."

Harry rolled his eyes a little and turned to cast a few careful spells at the topaz. There might be weak points where the facets met. Harry had sometimes been in buildings that had similar architecture, and all of them had their weak points.

* * *

"Wake up, Lucius. I need your blood."

Lucius started out of sleep as if the words had been an Alarm Charm, his wand raised. Harry backed a step away and stared at him.

"So you have finally decided you'd like to arrange the disappearance of the last traces of the Malfoy line?" Lucius stood up, only to fall into a dueling crouch a second later, while Harry continued to stare at him. "It won't work, you know. Draco survives. And if you were incompetent enough to try to trap me in here, only to be trapped in turn—"

"You said blood sacrifice was the only way to get us out of this jewel," said Harry slowly, and wondered what kind of dreams Lucius had on a regular basis. _Dreams of assassination attempts?_ "Well, I'm desperate enough to try that. I'll give more blood than you. After all, I need you well enough to tell me where the ritual points should go and what kind of spells we should do. I've never studied anything like that."

Lucius dropped his arm as if his wand had suddenly become lost its core. He rubbed his eyes and breathed out slowly, his fingers opening and closing. "You stupid child," he whispered. "That is not what I meant when I said that we would both have to make a sacrifice we wouldn't like."

"Oh, of course," Harry saw after a moment of thinking about it. "Because you wouldn't mind blood sacrifice in the same way I would."

Lucius opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He sat down again and wrapped an arm around his face. "Think about it that way if it pleases you, you stupid child," he said. "The Ministry is wiser than you. They would never have trusted me around an important magical artifact if I was still tainted by the Dark."

 _Or they're more susceptible to bribery,_ Harry thought, eyeing Lucius contemplatively. "All right. Then what was the sacrifice?"

"You think I want to talk about it any more than I want to do it?"

Harry sat down and laughed. It was the first release of tension he'd had since they became trapped inside the topaz, and he leaned back and laughed and laughed and laughed, while Lucius finally dropped his arm so he could stare at Harry like he was mad.

"Talking and doing are different things," Harry finally said, wiping the tears away from his eyes. "If you were an Auror, you'd know that."

"Yes, I'm sure that you defend our country with your mighty deeds every day, and think the words of diplomats are as nothing." Lucius rolled his eyes. "That doesn't change the fact that I won't talk about this with you, Potter."

"All right," said Harry, after he'd thought about it again. "Is it killing yourself?"

Lucius stared at him, and this time his face looked as though it was frozen into a snarl.

"Since talking about killing me wouldn't distress you in the same way," Harry finished, with a shrug.

"No."

"It's not blood sacrifice, either, we've established that." Harry kicked up his heels and lay on his stomach. He almost enjoyed this, in a way, trying to figure out what could make Lucius Bloody Malfoy so touchy. "Or disinheriting Draco—not that you could do that from inside a magical jewel—"

"You'd be surprised."

Harry hid a grin. That challenging glint in Lucius's eyes was better than despair.

"Or marrying someone Muggleborn, since they're not in here and you can't do that either." Harry was about to continue listing things that Lucius couldn't do, but he saw the slight movement Lucius made and stopped. " _Can_ you marry someone Muggleborn from inside a jewel?" He was starting to think that trap jewels should be his next topic of research, once he was out of this one.

Lucius turned to the side and stared into the distance. "No. But then, two people are not usually trapped inside a jewel."

"Men can't marry men," Harry reminded him.

Lucius gave him a glance so withering that Harry started. "Do you imagine that, when we can create jewels to trap our enemies, we could not come up with a ritual that would bind two men together if we wanted?"

Harry tilted his head. "Fine. But explain to me how a marriage ritual would help get us out of the jewel." He could feel laughter bubbling up in his stomach. He honestly wasn't too worried. If a ritual existed to bind them together, it probably existed to unbind them. He just wanted to see what would happen.

 _Can we even do a ritual in a place like this where we have nothing but our robes and our wands?_

Lucius kept his head turned away, and it took Harry a few minutes to realize that he wasn't trying to gather his wits, he was just refusing to answer. Harry narrowed his eyes. "I am speeeeeeaking to you, Lucius," he said in a singsong tone.

"I don't want to do a marriage ritual with you," Lucius said precisely.

"I know that, but that wasn't what I asked you for. How would a ritual like that get us out of the jewel?"

Lucius turned back to study him. His eyes were strong and searing. Harry could still stand up under them. They were no worse than Voldemort's eyes, come to that. "The marriage ritual would create a new entity that didn't exist before—the bonded couple we would become. The jewel can only trap the people, or more often person, that was designated to be here from the beginning. We would essentially become one, or three as it can be seen, and the jewel would have to expel us."

"That does make sense," Harry said approvingly, and ignored the tight-lipped smile that Lucius sent him. "You said there are rituals made specifically to bind two wizards. That argues they can be pretty adaptable to circumstances, doesn't it? So if we got bound only to get out of the jewel, there should be another ceremony that would recognize that later, and unbind us because we had the will to become—divorced?" That wasn't the right word, he thought, but he had the feeling he'd already said "bound" too much.

Lucius sat up and studied him in silence for some moments. Then he said, "I had been led to believe that you were considerably less intelligent than this."

"I live to confound expectations." Harry sat up again and added, "Well?"

"There are rituals like that," said Lucius slowly. "And there is nothing that would specifically prevent me from becoming tied to you with one marriage and then dissolving it when I left the jewel."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that he ought to be used to that, since he'd divorced Narcissa Malfoy not many weeks after the war—something about the stress they'd both been compelled to live under and how it had rotted the bond between them. But he didn't think Lucius would appreciate the same kind of joking that worked well with his friends, so he added, "What about it?"

"I do not want to."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know, I was on the opposite side of the war and all that. But when you think—"

"That has nothing to do with it," Lucius interrupted, which made Harry stare at him and Lucius sigh in response. "Perhaps a little. But, in truth, Potter, I simply wish to choose who I kiss and who I bond with."

Harry paused. Then he nodded. "I can respect that." And he could. With the amount of love potions and so on that people tried to force on him, he had to be constantly careful if he caught himself thinking about someone romantically. It might or might not have been his idea.

But he _couldn't_ rid himself of the idea that they should do something now so they could get out of the jewel and go on making their own choices.

"But I wonder…"

Harry turned to Lucius. If he was ready to give up his opposition, then Harry was willing to listen. "Yes?"

Lucius was eyeing him in a strange way that made Harry think of how he had looked at Ginny Weasley the first time he saw her alive after the war. "You are more intelligent than I thought," Lucius said, in the voice of someone trying to talk himself into something. "And no report has ever exaggerated your handsomeness."

"I see _you_ don't keep up with _Witch Weekly_."

Lucius paid no attention to that, but got up and moved slowly towards Harry, staring into his eyes the whole time. Harry felt a flutter in his stomach, but he maintained his eye contact with Lucius. Just because he was nervous didn't mean he was going to vomit all over Lucius. He hoped.

"There is another ritual that would essentially be a—promise to consider bonding in the future," Lucius said. "Not as easy to dissolve, since we would have to wait until the next solstice instead of proceeding immediately, but it would not restrict our free choices as much, either."

Harry immediately stood up and peered straight through the light playing through the topaz, which shone as brilliantly as sunlight. "What's that?"

"Handfasting," Lucius said, and abruptly caught Harry's hand and held it so tightly that Harry knew he couldn't have withdrawn it if he wanted to. "Are your bones strong enough to bear my grip, Potter?"

"My wristbone? Of course it is." Harry met him glance for glance and cocked his head. "Do your worst, Lucius."

"What a promising beginning to a handfasting," said Lucius, with a slight roll of his eyes, but bent his head and kissed the side of Harry's mouth, then his cheek, then his forehead. "I promise to consider Harry Potter for marriage until the next solstice."

"And I promise to consider Lucius Malfoy for marriage until the next solstice," Harry said obediently, after a moment when Lucius had stared at him in silence and Harry had waited for what he thought was a more complicated sort of ritual. He wreathed his fingers around Lucius's, somewhat awkwardly clasping his wrist the same way.

There was a sudden burst of white light so powerful that Harry shouted, which led to a snicker from Lucius. But it _had_ startled him, and the world around them was suddenly gone, dazzling, a warm tumble of real light that changed to sunlight—

And for a moment Harry felt as if he was burning, a single blot of light wreathed with more light, and some of that light was Lucius—

And then there were the more subdued lights of the Ministry room where the Unspeakables had shown off the topaz, and amazed shouting, and the snapping of cameras. Of course there would be, Harry thought, sitting back in resignation and letting go of Lucius's wrist.

It felt as though part of him didn't let go, though. As though part of him was left behind, snagged like a trailing thread on a doorknob, and he couldn't move too far.

Harry turned his head and saw Lucius watching him. He nodded slightly and then stood, casting a Shield Charm that covered the exits from the room.

"Someone intended that the two of us be imprisoned in the topaz," he said, not loudly. "I request the help of the Unspeakables in finding the culprit—"

And then, of course, one of the grey-hooded wizards started running, and Harry got the excitement of dodging the Minister and casting a Stunner at them to make sure they didn't get away.

The _interesting_ thing was that both his Stunner and Lucius's hit the fleeing person at the same time.

Harry turned to stare at Lucius. He looked slightly ruffled, as though he'd had an interesting conversation that had turned into a debate, but he bowed a little to Harry—it was distinguishable from a nod—and then joined the other Unspeakables in converging on the one who'd tried to flee.

Harry leaned back against the wall and ignored the reporters and flunkeys trying to talk to him. He'd turn to them in a minute. Let them assume for a second that he was still dazed by the way he'd got out of the topaz, or by the flurry of action.

But he let his eyes linger on Lucius, and if no one understood the smile that curved his lips now, that was all to the good for his own privacy.

 _It will be interesting to see what happens at Midsummer._

 **The End.**


	2. Midsummer, Part 1

**Title:** Midsummer  
 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.  
 **Pairing:** Established Lucius/Harry  
 **Content Notes:** Handfasting, rituals, mild angst  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Wordcount:** This part 3300  
 **Summary:** As Midsummer approaches, Harry has to decide whether to make a try at extending his and Lucius's temporary handfasting into a permanent one…or to trust that Lucius might try that himself. Sequel to "Courts of the Sun."  
 **Author's Notes:** This is an Advent fic written for the requests of several people who wanted to see what happened to Harry and Lucius after "Courts of the Sun." You need to read that story first to understand this at all.

 **Midsummer**

"I assume that you have everything ready for the dissolution of our bond at Midsummer."

Lucius's voice was neutral, his head turned aside. Harry tried to catch his eye across the breakfast table, but it was impossible as it always was at this time of day.

 _And most other times of day, too,_ Harry admitted to himself.

"Yes," he finally said, giving up. "I have a hair from my head for each month we've been bonded and a ring my father wore."

Lucius nodded and examined the _Daily Prophet_ with the same expression of disinterest he showed in everything. "That will be sufficient."

Harry leaned back against the chair and watched Lucius. He thought he could get away with it, since Lucius was still invested in pretending to ignore everything outside his little bubble.

He was handsome, and that was the problem. Harry could have remained friends, and no more than that, with someone who was merely tolerable-looking. But Lucius had pale hair that he kept exquisitely groomed, and a face that was a lot less pointy than Harry had once thought it was, and deep, lustrous blue eyes.

 _Listen to me. I sound like a second-year at Hogwarts!_

But Harry had to admit there was a reason for that. Even though Lucius didn't show him warmth and probably never would, if Harry was realistic, he was _gracious_. He never showed any resentment for the strange handfasting that had let them get out of the magical topaz. He never stared at Harry and rolled his eyes. He never said anything about the blood purity beliefs that Harry sometimes thought he still harbored.

If Ron and Hermione came over, then Lucius would stay in the room reading, or make a few remarks. If Ron started talking about Malfoys, or Hermione about house-elves, Lucius would get up and leave, with a quiet dignity that drew Harry's eyes far more than he would have imagined when he was flapping around after Cho and Ginny.

But he had changed, and so had Lucius. It was inevitable. Harry didn't want to turn back the clock and pretend the change had never happened, either, which he sometimes thought Ron would have liked.

"Why are you looking at me?"

Unusually, Lucius was apparently going to take some notice of him. Harry answered honestly. "I like looking at you."

Lucius paused, and lowered the newspaper. His blue eyes had widened a little. He reached out a hand as though he was going to pick up his plate, and put it down again. Harry frowned. He'd said things like that before, and Lucius had never paid attention. "Are you all right?"

"I don't understand," Lucius said, and shook his head. "You have said things like that before."

"Yes," Harry admitted cautiously.

"I thought you were going through a phase of infatuation, and would stop soon," said Lucius, and Harry had to work hard not to splutter. He knew his own feelings _better_ than that, thanks. "And then I thought that perhaps you wanted to convince me to stay in the marriage."

"That's what I _would_ like. To give it a chance. To see what would happen."

Lucius went on without deigning to notice this. "But when I said nothing, when I sometimes actively discouraged you with a stare or by leaving the room, you went on saying it. Why? What would you have to gain from it?"

"What do you mean, what do I gain from it? I gain honesty and maybe making you think that I _am_ being honest." Harry was getting a little irritated now. Was Lucius always going to be this—this _stuck?_ All the changes, and this was what he couldn't get beyond? "And if you don't ever get to the point where you might give the handfasting a chance, still, you might take pleasure in knowing that I think you're handsome."

"Take pleasure," Lucius said flatly.

"Well, yeah. I don't know if you will. If you dislike it, I'll stop. But you didn't say anything one way or the other, so—"

Lucius stood up and left the room without another word.

Harry closed his eyes and, carefully, didn't yell or break anything. Finally he sighed and reached for the omelet that he'd largely been ignoring.

It was _stupid,_ was what it was. Lucius ought to know by now that Harry was honest. He wouldn't pretend to an interest he didn't feel. He wouldn't try to extend the handfasting because he had something political to gain from it.

 _We've changed, all right, I get that. But Lucius should be able to see that I could never change_ that _much._

* * *

The boy puzzled Lucius, perhaps because he was no longer a boy.

That was the thought passing through Lucius's head as he watched Potter practicing his spellwork in the garden of the small house they were sharing. Lucius had inherited the house from a distant cousin who had hated him but would never have thought of leaving the property to anyone but blood. With a few house-elves to complete the dusting and refurnishing before they moved in, it had been more than tolerable.

Potter had never said anything one way or the other that would indicate he was used to living in more luxurious surroundings.

And neither was he practicing solely offensive spellwork, something Lucius had assumed he would without question. Potter rolled and ducked and leaped under the wands of a variety of imaginary opponents, but he used Scouring Charms in response, sometimes, and Tickling Charms—although admittedly with a twist to the incantation Lucius had never heard—and a _momentary_ Stunner that flickered in and out of existence so fast Lucius was not sure of the red color. Defensive charms, mostly.

 _The way to get killed._ That Potter had lived so far did not mean anything. There was always the future.

Potter finally trotted back into the house, panting, although it was mild at best outside. He tilted his head at Lucius when he saw him through the window, but didn't pause, only waved and walked to the back door.

Lucius felt a sharp shiver run through him, a spasm of annoyance that he let out of his mouth when he heard the door shut. "Ignoring your handfasted?"

Potter appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows raised. "Er," he said.

 _The epitome of elegance,_ Lucius thought with a sneer, but when he turned to face Potter, he realized there might be some things better than elegance.

Potter had a sort of _haze_ around him, a glow of well-being and sweat that made Lucius eye him before he could stop it. He had never favored that sort of exercise himself. Dueling with words outdid dueling with wands.

"Is something wrong?"

"You ignored me."

"You spied on me."

Lucius paused. He still wasn't quite over the way Potter _responded_ , as if he had the perfect right to reply and answer and retort and counter. Sometimes he didn't even bother with words. A raised eyebrow over the newspaper or a snort into his teacup—making droplets fly several _meters_ —was all he would give.

"Why did you agree to stay with me?" Lucius asked.

"You said it was the thing to do in handfasting," Potter said, and his eyebrows crept up another tilt. "You said that we should behave honorably and you wouldn't have anyone saying you agreed to this simply to get out of the topaz, and—"

"That is what I said. That is not an explanation for you _agreeing_."

"Because I really don't want to expose you to ridicule," Potter said, very gently. "You've done nothing to deserve it. I've made my feelings clear, that I think you're handsome and I'd like to have a chance. If you don't want to, that's all right."

"Not _fine_?"

"No, because I do want a chance. But all right."

"There is no alternative but _marriage_ at Midsummer, Potter," Lucius said, and was proud of the way his voice rasped like a dragon's. "You cannot want that simply because you think I'm handsome and it would be 'all right.'"

"That's not true. We could handfast for another year."

Lucius paused. It was true that multiple handfastings have once been practiced, although the custom over time had become a trial period and then marriage. But handfasting again was nothing against honor, or custom, or tradition, or anything else he could think of.

"Why would you want that?"

"I told you," Potter said, and raised his eyebrows at Lucius, and _walked out of the room._

Lucius wondered where his ability to have the last word had gone.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea, mate? I mean, you've already talked to him about it, and you said he was dead set against it—"

"No, he just seemed surprised when I talked about having multiple handfastings." Harry shrugged and stole Ron's glass of Firewhisky, which he hadn't had a chance to take a drink of yet. Ron glared at him, but it was at the point in the evening when his aiming his wand would get him a chastisement from Hermione, so he instead he walked away to get another one from Tom. Harry sipped the drink and sighed.

"You seem so unhappy, Harry," Hermione said quietly, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. "Do you really want to stay handfasted to Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry rolled his eyes. It was _also_ the point in the evening where he worried less about hurting his friends' feelings—and where Hermione lost some of her brilliance. "I've said it over and over, Hermione. What I want is the chance. If we do another handfasting and it goes horribly, then in a year I can walk away."

"A year is an awfully long time to spend in misery if it goes wrong."

"But I don't _know_ that it will," Harry said. He reached over and tapped his glass against Hermione's forehead, ignoring the way she jerked back in offense. "Besides, it's not like I would just be glued to his side and unable to do anything else. I have the Aurors and my cases. I don't even spend every night at—home now…" He trailed off.

"What?"

"I hadn't realized I do think of that house as home." Harry stared off into the distance, which in this case meant into the smoke and grease of the Leaky Cauldron, and then shook his head. "Huh." He drained the rest of the Firewhisky.

He became aware that Hermione was staring past him with her jaw dropped. He turned around. "What? Is Ron bothering someone?"

But no. Instead, Hermione was staring at Lucius standing in the entrance of the Cauldron, his lip curling with the slight, perfect amount of disdain. Harry put down his glass and straightened carefully, hand on the back of the chair. It must be something urgent for Lucius to have come to fetch him like this. Maybe someone had attacked the house.

He wavered his way over, ignoring the way that Lucius's lip curled harder when he saw him. It wasn't like he didn't already get that look on a daily basis. "What is it?"

Lucius grabbed his arm and leaned in so that Harry was the only one who could hear him. "If you are going to be my husband in truth," he hissed at him, "I refuse to indulge such ridiculous behavior as this, drinking in public when you have work tomorrow morning."

"What about when I _don't_ have work tomorrow morning?" was the only thing Harry could think of to ask.

Lucius said, "You were the one who wanted to try this." His voice remained low, and he was glaring beyond Harry at what was presumably Ron coming back with his drink, or maybe Hermione making up her mind as to whether she needed to intervene. "Are you going to come quietly, or do I have to drag you?"

"'d have to cast a Sobering Charm first," Harry muttered, giggling a little at the thought of Lucius dragging him down Diagon Alley.

The quick narrowing of Lucius's eyes said he was perfectly willing to try that. Harry rested one hand. "All right, I'll come with you. Just let me say goodbye to his friends." He turned around and waved at them.

"Can you walk back all that way?"

"That's why I _waved_ ," Harry explained in a calm, superior tone, and he was glad that he was so drunk that Lucius's tone wasn't going to have its usual effect on his body.

They stepped out into the cool spring evening. Lucius arranged his cloak so that the folds were crisper around his shoulders, or something. Harry had to admit he wasn't really in the position to notice fine details right now.

"You are remarkably hard to find," Lucius murmured, keeping pace with him, even letting Harry lean against him a little as they proceeded towards the Apparition point. Harry might have leaned harder than he needed to, but it wasn't like Lucius could tell.

"I left you a note telling you that I was going drinking with Ron and Hermione!"

"You neglected to mention _where_."

"The same place I always drink," Harry said, and felt a jolt of sadness that not even his drunken state could hide. He pulled back reluctantly from Lucius, only for Lucius to catch his arm and keep him close. "I've told you that before. I didn't think I needed to mention because—I thought you would know."

This time, the silence wrapped them until they reached the Apparition point. Harry only looked at Lucius when he had to turn so he could get into Side-Alonging position, and then his eyes darted upwards without permission.

Lucius gave him a careful look, and then said, "I might not have paid as much attention to your activities as I should."

And he took Harry's arm, and Side-Along Apparated him before Harry could absorb that that was meant as an apology.

* * *

Harry _did_ always take care to tell him where he went after that.

Lucius watched. He listened. He hadn't realized how often Harry talked to him, even if it was only putting his head around the corner to say, "I'll be late on a case tonight," or "I thought the house-elves could make those beans and rice you liked so well for dinner," or "Is that a new hair potion you're using?" All the time. He was just _there_. Lucius had got used enough to it that he might not have noticed if the chatter had stopped.

But now, he would have. Harry tried to talk to him more often for a few days after Lucius's necessary visit to the pub. But then he slipped back to his former levels, and to cautious glances at Lucius from under his eyelashes when he seemed to think Lucius wouldn't notice.

Lucius had to exert himself more. Harry had come as far as he could. He seemed to think that, Lucius's words at the Leaky Cauldron notwithstanding, Lucius didn't want more, or it had been only a ploy, or he had decided against continuing his newfound interest.

So Lucius waited until the next time Harry suggested that the house-elves could prepare a roast he liked, and then nodded. "That would be acceptable."

Harry, already halfway to the front door, started and turned around. "Really?" he asked, a faint red flush climbing to his cheeks. Then again, he had just been training outdoors in another practice session.

"Yes. Of course. Did I ever give you the impression that I disapproved of your culinary choices? I always eat it."

"Yes, but that's the only sign of approval you give."

"I had forgotten that someone else—"

Lucius cut himself off, but Harry was watching, and Lucius knew he wouldn't get away with that for long. "Forgotten what?"

"Forgotten that someone might know me less well than Narcissa," Lucius said, because he had to.

Harry paused, then said quietly, "Of course. I'm sorry. _I_ forgot." He shook his head. "I don't know how, but I forgot."

"Forgot that I was married?" Lucius had learned to see through some of the glittering facades that Harry created. Harry might play the bumbling Auror or self-impressed Boy-Who-Lived to fool some criminals. Such tactics had not worked on Lucius, because he _willed_ them not to work.

"No. I forgot that you have perfectly legitimate reasons for not wanting to stay handfasted another year." Harry was staring across the large, open drawing room towards the windows that opened onto the garden. "I'm sorry. I—don't know how I convinced myself otherwise." He turned and slipped towards the front door again.

"Wait, Harry." Lucius stood, and, when that didn't work because Harry still seemed intent on opening the door, he cast a spell that stuck it shut. Harry didn't try to open it, but simply stood there, shoulders bowed as if he was accepting the inevitable. Lucius found he did not care to see that, and his voice sharpened to the blade that would pierce Harry's indifference and force him to open his mouth. "You are no doubt supposing something foolish. I would like to know what it is now, so that I can spend the least possible amount of time dealing with it."

Harry turned around, and his cheeks were flushed with anger now. It was—becoming on him, Lucius had to admit. Now that he had begun to entertain these thoughts, it was hard not to go on thinking about them, not to admire the turn of Harry's wrist or catch his breath when those green eyes flashed.

"I forgot that you were married to a woman, and wouldn't want a man," Harry said. His voice was dusty, croaking, but he said the words. He didn't look away from Lucius while he said them, either. "Like I said, I don't know how I convinced myself otherwise."

"I said I wanted to decide for myself who I bonded to."

"Yes. I remember. In the topaz. And—"

"I meant I was choosy," Lucius said. "I can afford to be. Not entirely uninterested."

Harry blinked at him, and simply stood there as Lucius moved forwards and laid a considering hand on his cheek. His breathing got a little faster, but he didn't look away and he didn't break. He was stronger than that, truly.

Lucius had thought so. He had simply wanted to see how Harry would react to his touch.

He leaned forwards and kissed Harry. Harry was quiet and shuddering in disbelief for long seconds. Then he flung his arms around Lucius's shoulders and kissed him back.

Lucius let their tongues touch for only a moment before he retreated. He was choosy, as he had said, and he wanted some more pursuit, not a hasty kiss and grope in the middle of the drawing room that Harry might regret later.

"Before you assume anything else about me," he said, and stood there for long enough to watch Harry swallow in reaction to the wetness on his lips, "you should _ask_."

Harry remained still long enough for Lucius to count almost to seven. Then he nodded and smiled, and went out the door, on his way to work.

It was an ordinary day in many respects. Lucius, as he sat down with his paper again, though that he had _also_ forgotten that he himself possessed the power to change such a day if he wanted to.


	3. Midsummer, Part 2

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"Mate? Are you all right?"

Harry sighed and nodded. He was, once again, drinking with Ron and Hermione, but as he had promised Lucius, he was doing it on a weekend. "Yes. Lucius is confusing, that's all."

"Of course he is. He was probably born knowing how to be confusing. Or they taught him to do that in those secret Malfoy lessons that we all know they give Malfoys."

"Secret Malfoy lessons?"

Ron nodded vigorously, his hair flopping into his eyes. Harry leaned his elbow on the table and smiled at Ron. Lucius was so confusing that it was sometimes a relief to spend time with his friends. Ron would always be straightforward and shining and completely honest, even when he shouldn't be.

"Yes. You know, they take their kids—" Ron waved his hand to indicate a whole legion of nonexistent Malfoys "—and sit them down and tell them to confuse the shit out of everybody. To smile mysteriously. To make these cryptic remarks."

"Why, though?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking up from her glass. "Why would they do that? It has to have some purpose if they dedicate a whole education to it."

Ron started out inventing a new curriculum, and Harry smiled and listened, but his mind was on Lucius. He wondered if he was the only one who _didn't_ find the man mysterious. He'd been wrong about him on multiple occasions since they started living together, but he didn't think Lucius was being confusing on purpose. Instead, Harry assumed some things and thought others didn't have a purpose when they did.

The thought made him restless. He couldn't read Lucius from this far away. He stood up.

"Mate?" Ron tilted his head back.

"I think I've had enough to drink. I'm going home." Harry smiled at both of them and left his empty mug on the table. "Lucius will probably be happy to see me so early in the evening, anyway."

"Yes, I think he will be." Hermione gave him a cryptic smile of her own and hid behind her mug when Harry stared at her.

Harry rolled his eyes and reminded himself that Hermione wasn't _always_ wise—she hadn't realized why Harry would want to stay handfasted to Lucius—and then Apparated home.

Lucius was sitting at the table, reading. He looked at Harry when he walked through the door and frowned a little. "Did you have an argument with your friends?"

"No," Harry said, and cast a Sobering Charm on himself so that what had seemed like a good idea when he was drunk would still seem like a good idea. Luckily, it did. He smiled at Lucius and walked a little closer. "I just decided that I wanted to spend time with you."

This time, he was paying attention enough to see the subtle cues. Lucius's eyes darkened enough that Harry could see the change, and his breathing quickened a touch. He didn't lay aside the newspaper he held, but Harry hadn't expected him to. He stepped up behind Lucius and bent down, making sure to freshen his breath with a charm, too, before he kissed Lucius.

Lucius held himself still in the chair, only shifting a little and opening his mouth so that the tip of his tongue touched Harry's. Harry shuddered with pleasure and moved around in front of Lucius, stroking his arms and his mouth at the same time.

When he won a tiny groan, he pulled back, smiled at Lucius, sat down across the table, and began talking about the article on the front page of the _Prophet_ , which concerned corruption accusations against the new Minister.

Lucius watched him with hot eyes, but he was the one who had wanted to stretch this out. That meant he could wait a little while, and have a normal evening conversation with his handfasted.

The man who might become his husband.

Harry shivered himself, and from the deepening of Lucius's smile, he knew Lucius had noticed. He smiled back and continued the conversation, then made sure to trail his fingers across Lucius's shoulder as he stood up and went up to bed.

By himself, for now. But maybe not for much longer, if their compatibility had anything to say about it.

* * *

Harry was driving him _mental_.

Lucius considered the word, and nodded over it. It was one he never would have said aloud, because it would sound less than dignified, but he had no reason to be so dignified in the confines of his own head.

Harry knew exactly how to seduce, when he wanted to. That he seemed to have left those talents unexercised until now didn't matter. He knew how to smile sidelong, and make Lucius start thinking about activities not suitable for the public eye by the way his tongue darted along the edge of his lip. He knew how to toss his head back so that his eyes gleamed and his throat was bare, and Lucius had to think about how the one would change when he was sucking on the other.

He touched Lucius all the time now: shoulder, arm, cheek, hair. The touches to his hair in particular were maddening. Lucius found himself holding still under Harry's caresses there as if he was a wild animal being tamed, and Harry would give him a faint smile and glide away, and Lucius would fight to keep his hands, that wanted to snatch, in his lap.

He had wanted to be pursued. He had wanted to be courted. Harry was obliging with a vengeance.

And then it occurred to Lucius that Harry might want to be pursued and courted himself, and he could get back some of his own.

* * *

Harry blinked his eyes open slowly. He'd stumbled out of the Floo earlier and simply collapsed onto the chair in front of the fire. He hadn't really _meant_ to, but he was so exhausted by the multiple chases he'd done today that he hadn't had a choice. Several cells had had their spells that kept criminals from using magic or moving out of them fail, and Harry had hunted people he had already captured down the corridors of the Ministry.

Several of them had been able to use wandless or accidental magic, too, and Harry had been limping, bruised, and a little bloodied by the time he made it home.

Now, hands were running down his neck and shoulders. They had magic or maybe a soothing potion on them, and Harry groaned and arched back as he realized how much better he already felt, the aches flowing away as if he'd taken a painkiller.

Someone had pushed his Auror robes away from his shoulders and neck to reach bare skin, he realized in a daze. He found himself unable to really care. He only tipped forwards in encouragement and groaned again.

"Yes, I thought so," Lucius said, in a voice that Harry would curse him out for later when he wasn't bringing heaven to Harry's shoulders with his hands. And then he let him go.

Harry tried to sit up and yell a protest, but Lucius made a soothing noise and came around the couch. In a second, he'd steered Harry down so that he was lying on his stomach, and his robes were gone completely. Harry didn't know if Lucius had taken them off or just Vanished them, and honestly, at the moment he didn't much care.

He moaned as Lucius touched him, and for a second Lucius's hands faltered. Harry wriggled against him, and after a second, Lucius did resort to carefully massaging him again.

"You're almost melting into the couch," Lucius said, and his voice had gone quiet and smug, in a way that meant Harry would have to murder him when he managed to open his eyes. For now, he couldn't, feeling the aches and the bruises dissolve and puddle away. "I had no idea I was so good at this."

"Keep on being good at it," Harry said, his own words warped and blurred in a fashion he'd never experienced. Well, maybe a few times when someone cast a Mouth-Melting Curse at him, but that was hardly the same thing. He stretched luxuriously when Lucius finally pulled his hands away, and sighed. "Wonderful. I won't be sore and stiff in the morning, thanks to you."

"Would you like to be stiff and sore in the morning _thanks_ to me?"

Harry's eyes flew open. Suddenly his relaxation was—not gone, but transmuted into something else. He turned slowly, so that he was meeting Lucius's eyes. Lucius was leaning over the back of the couch still, but now it looked like a deliberate, calculated pose, not just something he was doing because it would let him reach Harry's back.

Harry sighed out slowly. "If you really—if you're not sure that you want to get married or handfasted at midsummer, don't say that, Lucius."

"I am sure."

Harry stood up. He was shaking, which was ridiculous, since he'd certainly had sex before. But nothing in any of his other relationships had ever felt as important as the moment when he held out his hand to Lucius. "Come on, then."

* * *

They swung into Harry's bedroom almost by default. It was closer, and when Harry was kissing him against the wall and Lucius couldn't think, it was the door Lucius instinctively groped towards. He only had a minute to look at the framed photographs on the walls, most of them of dead people, before Harry impatiently stripped off the rest of his clothes and crawled onto the bed.

"One thing I'm going to tell you."

Lucius paused in the middle of removing his own robes. Harry was looking at him with strong, stern, clear eyes. Lucius felt a little insulted. Harry was supposed to be _considerably_ more melted than that, after the massage Lucius had given him.

"Yes?" Lucius replied, when he realized that Harry was still staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

"I sometimes had a problem with my lovers in the past because they had misconceptions about me." Harry leaned forwards, his arms resting on his knees. Lucius couldn't help his gaze dipping to Harry's cock, but even though it was hard and impressive, that mattered less than Harry's eyes right now. "They thought I needed gentle handling. Sometimes they knew about my past and decided that was why. Other times they couldn't see themselves being rough with the hero of the wizarding world."

Lucius felt a sharp tingle making its way through him, something he had almost never felt in the past except when he was casting Dark Arts spells. He swallowed. "Yes?" he said again.

"I want to be fucked _hard_ , Lucius."

It was perfection. It was the way Lucius felt, the way he preferred to handle his lovers. He smiled and dropped his robes on the floor. "That will not be a problem."

Harry's own gaze went straight to his cock, in both meanings of the word. Harry looked as if he was about to drool when Lucius moved away from the side of the bed and up to him in the middle. "Oh, good," Harry sighed, reaching out to caress him.

Lucius stood still, biting his lip and shutting his eyes, until Harry made a sound too much like a chuckle. Then he grabbed Harry and pinned him to the bed. He got a startled breath, but also immediately fluttering eyes and arching hips.

"Yes, that's what you want," Lucius said. "How fortunate that it's what I want, too." He cast the spell that would slick his cock and also slicken his way. Harry bit his own wrist to hide his reaction to that.

Lucius reached out and moved Harry's hand away from his mouth with a patient air. "No," he said. "We both want you to be fucked, but in return, I also want to hear all the noise you make."

"You might be sorry you said that," Harry muttered.

Lucius found out what he meant when he sank into Harry. Harry almost yowled, and then clawed up his back and kept up a litany of muttered swear-words, mouthed obscenities, and bitten-off words that sounded like Lucius's name. That wasn't to mention the way that he drummed his hands on Lucius's back and his heels against his legs and told him to move faster, faster, harder, _harder_.

Lucius came to the realization that he was still holding back. It wasn't because of Harry's past or nonsense such as that. It was only because part of him always had held back, not wanting to hurt Narcissa, not wanting to hurt the rare witch or wizard he'd been with before her.

"I can feel you're not giving me everything, Lucius. Bastard. Come on, _give_ it to me!"

Lucius let the last barrier fall, and began to _move_.

Harry cried out, but it was a cry of satisfaction, and Lucius honestly didn't know if he could have stopped himself even if it wasn't. Harry was contracting around him, clawing down his back, babbling in his ear, his own cock pushing firm and distracting against Lucius's stomach. Lucius was gasping, and the muscles in his shoulders and hips and legs clenched as though he was surging through the air on a broom.

He could only do this a little while. It wasn't going to be much longer...

And then the moment _hit,_ and Lucius knew it wasn't going to be much longer, and he was bruised and sore and racked and triumphant, and he didn't _care._ He pushed forwards and released into Harry as though it was the only thing that mattered, them and this joining and this bed.

Harry followed right behind him, muttering soft things in his throat. When Lucius reared his head back, blinking and twitching, Harry reached up and caressed his cheek. His smile was smooth and small and self-aware.

"I think it's going to be the marriage, isn't it? Not another handfasting year?"

If Lucius hadn't given of himself so completely, he might have missed the anxiety hovering in the back of Harry's voice. He turned his head, kissed Harry's palm, and said only, "It is."

Harry closed his eyes and went to sleep all in one final collapse, leaving Lucius with the sticky and slightly risky problem of disentangling himself and casting enough spells to clean them up without waking Harry.

But it didn't matter, any more than his own pain had while he was giving Harry what Harry had asked for. This was worth it.

* * *

In the end, the marriage ceremony was so simple Harry wondered why more couples didn't go through with it.

Lucius had found him a bracelet, something he said was appropriate for a second marriage of the kind they were going to make. When Harry had reminded Lucius this was his _first_ marriage, Lucius only smiled and said, "And this is your second to the man you've been handfasted to for six months."

Well. Put that way—and with the assurance that Lucius would never love him less than Narcissa, just in a different way—what could Harry do but yield?

He stood in front of Hermione, who'd been the officiant right from the beginning, with no opposition from Lucius. They were alone in the garden of Ron and Hermione's house. The rest of the Weasleys didn't feel that comfortable attending Harry's marriage to a Malfoy, and Harry could understand. He would let them come closer to him in little rushes or skitters as they needed to, and always leave the possibility of friendship or conversation open.

Besides, he was getting married for himself. Not other people.

Lucius didn't seem to need a larger audience at all. His gaze had fastened on Harry the minute Harry brought his own bracelet out, set with the rubies that were emblematic of Midsummer in some traditions, representing the roses said to bloom then. And he stood still while Harry fastened the bracelet around his wrist, and he pulled out his own when Harry was done.

" _Topaz_?" Ron muttered, forgetting his manners the way he rarely did anymore.

Harry nudged him with one elbow. But Lucius only smiled a little at Ron and said, "It was a topaz that we were trapped in. It is fitting." He clasped the bracelet around Harry's wrist, and Harry tilted his arm back and forth to admire it.

And he heard Ron choke a little, and he smiled. It seemed that Ron had only _just_ realized that the entire bracelet was made of topaz, rather than set with them. Harry shook his head at Lucius. "Do I want to know how much this cost you?"

"Not as much as my foolishness would have cost me if I had allowed you to walk away."

Harry lowered his head. He honestly couldn't meet Lucius's eyes at the moment. He felt the gentle touch of Lucius's fingers on his arm, and then Lucius withdrew his hand and nodded to Hermione.

Hermione sounded a little choked-up as she recited the traditional vows, the ones that asked for health and happiness and harmony and other things beginning with "h" that Harry didn't pay that much attention to. All of his attention was for Lucius even if he couldn't look him in the eye right now. The way he shifted, the pattern of his breathing, how he kept one hand on the bracelet Harry had given him as though he wasn't sure it was real.

And then the moment came when the magic around them coalesced into waiting silhouettes of a couple leaning forwards to kiss, and paused, expectant. Harry blushed as he leaned in and kissed Lucius, but he had known he would have to do this in front of his friends, and although his cheeks scalded, he _wanted_ to.

Lucius's lips were just as warm and tender as they were when he kissed Harry in private. He drew back and let his hand rest on Harry's cheek as it had been resting on the bracelet. Harry stared at him for a second, and then broke into a wide grin.

"We're _married_."

"You are," said Hermione, shaking the sleeve of the official silver gown back from her wrist. "And I hope you're happy."

The tone of her voice was a warning. Both she and Ron felt that Harry had rushed into the marriage with Lucius. But Harry only grinned at her and said, "We will be."

Hermione finally rolled her eyes and smiled. Both she and Ron would support him no matter what or who he chose, Harry knew, just as they would support him if it didn't work out. "Congratulations, Harry. Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you," said Lucius, and drew Harry against him for another kiss. This was the one where Ron and Hermione turned politely away.

Harry bowed his head and let Lucius's hands and lips both travel through his hair, sighing with pleasure. He could feel Lucius smile, and then his husband murmured, "Shall we go somewhere else, away from prying eyes?"

"Please."

And Lucius laughed softly, and led Harry to the point outside Ron and Hermione's garden where they could Apparate. For the first time since Lucius had given him the bracelet, Harry looked at him directly.

It was still almost too much. It was still almost like looking into a sun of happiness and pleasure. But he would have to learn to carry this joy.

 _I made the right decision._

* * *

 _This was the right thing to do._

And Lucius was utterly sure—because of the six months they had spent handfasted as much as their compatibility in bed—that they would enjoy what was to come.

 _Together._

 **The End.**


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